Howdy folks. Well, my move is almost over (thank goodness - I don't know how much more stress I can take...) and so's the story. Only one more chapter to go after this one. Hope people are enjoying it thus far :)

Bander

The base's large locker room was choked with steam. Clouds of it billowed from beneath the shower curtain that cordoned off the lone shower stall that was in use. Inside, Jack stood with his neck turned toward the massaging showerhead, allowing the pulses of water to beat rhythmically against his skin. He'd been like this for nearly fifteen minutes, trying with little success to work a painful knot out of his neck and shoulder.

Jack closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cool tile of the shower wall. The hot water beating against him was almost unbearable, but the heat felt good on his aching muscles. He had woken up that morning with his neck and right shoulder locked so tight he could barely get out of bed. He'd worked through some of the stiffness during PT, the process leaving him bruised and seriously sore. His coach told him if he wasn't better by the next day, she'd need to try a more aggressive form of massage to break up the knotting – something he wanted to avoid at all costs. The thought of Lieutenant Ports digging and grinding her deceptively strong fingers into his already tender flesh just didn't have a good ring to it.

He knew part of his problem was worry. He'd seen his team off early that morning, watching as they disappeared through the Stargate on their first mission as SG-1 since the accident. They were slated to be back within twelve hours, but if the unstable weather pattern played up on the other end, they could be gone for much longer. It was a safe planet with friendly locals and no discernible signs of Goa'uld presence. SG-11 had been there for several weeks, mining a small pocket of Trinium ore that the native people willingly traded for some Earth medicine. Jack kept telling himself it was a sleeper of a mission, but he still couldn't help worrying just a little.

They should have been back by now… he thought, increasing the water temperature ever so slightly. Unless they ran into bad weather or worse…

Jack abruptly cut off his own thoughts. He wasn't doing himself any favors thinking like that. The others would be back when they got back, not when he thought they should be. Sam was an excellent leader, Teal'c a superior fighter, and Daniel… Daniel could talk his way out of almost any situation and shoot somewhat straight if he needed to. They would be fine, he was sure of it. Part of him was anyway.

He gave his shoulder an experimental roll. There was pain, but not as much as he'd expected. The hot water was working, loosening his stiff muscles and freeing up his locked joints. It wouldn't be enough to keep Ports from manhandling him though. He rolled his shoulder a little more, the sound of the various tendons and ligaments popping audible over the hiss of the water. This is gonna hurt… he thought, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to do.

His muscles warm and loose from the pounding water, Jack closed his eyes and began to rotate and flex his right shoulder. Pain radiated up and down his arm in sickening waves, weakening his knees and graying the corners of his vision. He could feel the various ligaments and tendons pulling and popping as he made them work, the slow, deliberate motion forcing them back into proper alignment.

"Come on, come on…" Jack ground out through clenched teeth. He had nearly reached the end of his tolerance level for self-doctoring when he felt the knotted muscles in his shoulder give unexpectedly. He cried out and braced himself against the wall as his body reeled from the sudden rush of pain. Slowly, Jack brought himself back under control. He was glad no one chose to enter the locker room during that particular time, as his grunts and curses would have undoubtedly raised question to what he was doing to himself behind the curtain.

Nothing to see here, folks…just making some minor self-adjustments… Such a wayward notion would usually prompt an amused chuckle, but it was hard to laugh with his shoulder and neck throbbing viciously in the background. What if I tore something? He thought, the idea crossing his mind for the first time. What would I say to doc? To my team? 'I couldn't face Lieutenant Ports' ruthless fingers again, so I decided to take a crack at fixing my shoulder myself?' They might as well just start laughing and calling me 'Colonel Coward' now…

He frowned. He really didn't think anyone would blame him for wanting to avoid another painful round of treatment, but he knew some wouldn't approve of his DIY approach. Creative? Yeah. Desperate? Sure. Stupid? You betcha. He chided himself for not having thought things through better. It wasn't to say he still wouldn't done it, but at least he would have felt less selfish about the whole thing.

Jack allowed the hot water to beat against him awhile longer before giving his shoulder a few tentative rolls. The pain was bad at first, but the more he moved the joint, the better it felt. He tried lifting his arm over his head flexing his arm into a position he'd been unable to that morning and was surprised to find how little it hurt. His range of motion was still far from normal, but it was just as good as it had been before his shoulder decided to lock up. Maybe better. On a whim, Jack tried raising his arm over his head. Pain shot down through his neck and flared across his chest.

"Crap!" he exclaimed, quickly returning his arm to a neutral position. The adjustments he'd made may have helped his shoulder, but they'd done nothing to his still tender chest muscles. He winced as he rubbed his sore ribs. Okay, not quite ready for that yet…

He was just turning off the water off when he heard the door to the locker room open.

"Whoa! What the…?"

"I was not aware Stargate Command possessed such a large steam room."

"Daniel? Teal'c? That you?"

"Jack?"

Definitely Daniel… "You guys are late," he said, reaching out through the curtain and groping around for the towel he'd hung on the wall.

"Significant precipitation prevented a direct rendezvous with SG-11," Teal'c replied.

"What?"

"The path leading to the mining site was washed out by the recent rain. We had to detour around the worst of it, adding several hours to our travel time," Daniel explained. "No wonder there's so much steam in here, Jack, you forgot to turn on the fans."

The ventilation fans hummed to life and began to draw the heavy fog from the room. Hitching his towel around his waist, Jack grabbed his shower kit and stepped out of the stall. "I didn't forget," he said, walking past them towards his locker. "I wanted the steam."

"For…oh...what did you do to your shoulder?"

"The bruising? That wasn't me. Lieutenant Ports did that this morning."

"Was she successful in untying the knot in your shoulder, O'Neill?"

"Nope." He rummaged through his locker, taking out a clean set of clothes. "And rather than endure a second attempt, I decided to take care of it myself."

"How? By turning the locker room into a sauna?"

"A lot of hot water, a couple of bad words…it wasn't pretty, but it worked."

Daniel had shed his muddied uniform and was heading for the shower. "That's crazy."

"Really? I thought I was being resourceful."

"You could have hurt yourself worse."

"I considered that," Jack replied, choosing to leave out that the thought had occurred to him after the adjustments were made. "But I sort of knew what I was doing. It wasn't the first time I've had to "untie" a knotted muscle as it were."

The water started up in Daniel's stall. "I still think you're crazy."

Jack smirked. You and half the Universe, Danny Boy… "I assume the mission was a success?"

"Indeed it was, O'Neill," Teal'c remarked, as he too entered the showers. "SG-11 was pleased to receive their supplies."

"Especially the dry clothes," Daniel added. "Apparently it's been raining there for seven days straight. They're still mining, but it's pretty slow going. The few native folks we got to meet were friendly. They appeared to be of European decent, with accents and cultural similarities to the Scottish. It was difficult to tell where they were technologically based on what we saw, but the observation reports I read from SG-11 suggest mid to late 19th century on our own timeline. They were fascinated by our tools and weaponry, and…"

Jack tuned out Daniel's excited chatter. He knew cultural study and comparison had its place in the Stargate program, but it was just something he held no interest in. Allowing his friend to ramble on, he set about tackling what he found to be the most difficult part of getting dressed: putting on a shirt. Although the task had gotten easier as his body healed, the inability to raise his right arm over his head made getting in and out of T-shirts damned near impossible. He'd had to cut himself out of several before giving up entirely and settling for the button front BDU blouse instead.

Just ask how she did… he thought, cringing as he slowly worked his aching arm into the long sleeve. He had hoped his teammates would have mentioned Sam's performance on their own, but so far nothing had been said. I'm sure they were concerned about her too, at least initially. And if something happened or they questioned her readiness, they would have definitely said so… With the shirt in place, he began to fasten the buttons, hardly noticing the occasional fumble with right hand.

"…And you should see some of the weapons they use for hunting. They looked like something right out of the Civil War era in…" Daniel was still going.

"So everything went all right? Carter did okay?" Jack asked at last.

"Major Carter preformed exceptionally well," Teal'c replied.

"Yeah, we were fine," Daniel agreed. "Why? Were you worried about us?"

"Worried?" Jack echoed, tucking his shower kit into his locker and closing the door. "No, not really. I was just curious how things went and if Carter adjusted okay. I know it can be hard going back to work after being out for a while." Their confirmation had lifted a great weight from his shoulders. He suspected the two men knew of his concerns even though they hadn't confronted him directly. It was a silence he appreciated, knowing only time, not reasoning or reassurance, would assuage his worries. "Well I'm glad you guys had a good run. It was the best way for Carter to get her feet wet."

"We all endured wet feet, O'Neill," Teal'c said, misunderstanding his remark. "The planet's current weather pattern proved to be laden with moisture."

Jack chuckled as he scooped up his dirty clothes and deposited them in the laundry chute. The large man's unique interpretation of common Earth expressions was always good for a laugh.

"You know, Jack," Daniel began from behind the shower curtain. "You ought to think about letting Sam take the lead more often."

"Really?"

"Sure. I know being in charge is all still pretty new to her, but she seemed to be enjoying herself today."

Jack considered this as he walked over to the water cooler that stood against the back wall. He'd always thought Sam had the potential to become a strong leader. She'd never expressed an interest in having her own command, but maybe it was something she was starting to think about. He'd be sorry to lose her on SG-1, but he didn't want to keep her from pursuing her own goals. "I'll mention it to Hammond. Maybe he can set something up."

"I was thinking more along the lines of you letting her lead SG-1."

Jack fumbled the cup he was dispensing water into. "What?"

"Not on a permanent basis, just a few missions here and there. To you know – 'get her feet wet.'"

Now he was confused. Did Sam want her own command or not?

"And who knows? Maybe she could teach you a thing or two along the way."

Jack could hear the smile in Daniel's voice. The other man was stringing him along. He'd done a good job, too. Up until he started talking about her leading SG-1, he'd really believed Sam was considering her own command. The feeling of foolishness for being duped was quickly replaced by the need for revenge.

"Really?" he asked, trying to sound as interested as possible. "Like what?"

"L-like what? Ah…" Daniel faltered, as if he hadn't been expecting his friend to bite. "She let us stop for regular rest breaks without a big fuss."

"Okay, so you guys want more breaks. I can to do that." Jack took a drink of the water he'd gotten from the cooler. In contrast to the steam filled room, it was very cold. He headed back over to the locker area to pick up his dog tags and watch. "What else could Carter teach me?"

"Um…well, there's the…the…Teal'c, anything you want to add?"

"I have no issues with O'Neill's method of leadership, Daniel Jackson."

Smart man… Jack thought. He finished fastening his watchstrap and walked over to the shower stalls. "Anything else?"

"Sam didn't hurry me along when I stopped to photograph a stone statue we came across in the woods."

"So more time to sight see then?"

"I wouldn't exactly call it sightseeing, but yeah, more time to explore the cultural aspects of a new planet would be nice."

"Okay."

"Without the sarcastic commentary…"

"All right."

"…Or asking 'what does this have to do with anything?' whenever I find something I think might be important …"

Now we're starting to get a little carried away… With a flick of his wrist, Jack tossed the remaining water in his cup over the shower curtain and into Daniel's stall.

"Jack!" Daniel yelped, completely startled by the sudden cold dousing.

"Oops. Sorry, Daniel. I forgot you were in there," Jack replied, finding it difficult to sound sincere while trying to keep from laughing. "By the way, I'll be sure to give your suggestions some thought."

"Jack! Revenge…"

"Is a bitch, I know. She and I have been acquainted many, many times. Just always remember: when you mess with the bull, you stand a good chance of getting the horns." Leaving his friend spouting hollow threats of doom, gloom, and reprisal, Jack headed out of the locker room with a wicked grin on his face.

"Yes sir, that's correct. Three weeks at least, and I think even that's a modest estimate." General Hammond sat at relative attention at his desk, the receiver of the red phone pressed to his ear. Even though the President was well over a thousand miles away, he couldn't quite bring himself to relax while he was on the line. "It's very impressive. I couldn't have asked for a better outcome. The latest report I saw showed that the new program and instruments are functioning up to spec. The data coming back from the MALPs is more comprehensive than ever."

He looked toward the large window at the front of his office when he saw someone approaching the door from the corner of his eye. It was Jack. He started to raise his hand to beckon him in, but the colonel had already entered. From the look on his face, Hammond could tell he was not happy.

"Yes sir, I will. Major Carter just went back to work last week, in fact." Despite the fuming man before him, Hammond had to chuckle at the President's words. "Yes, he's very anxious to return to the field. We're all hopeful that it will be soon. Ah-huh. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir, I'll be sure to pass that along. All right. You too. Goodbye." He replaced the red receiver on its cradle and sighed. Jack had retreated to the back of his office and appeared to be fixated on the shadow box containing his collection of service medals. "That was the President."

"Oh." Jack's terse reply showed no indication of interest whatsoever.

"He was calling to offer praise for Major Carter and her team of engineers for completing the MALP upgrade so quickly. He also wanted to know how both of you were doing – he's been concerned since hearing of the accident."

"That's nice."

Hammond sighed. Dealing with Jack when he got in this kind of mood was neither easy nor pleasant. "Is there something wrong, colonel?"

"Carter just showed me the report from SG-1's next mission."

The general knew SG-1 was slated to embark at 0700 the following morning. They were heading to P4R-332 to determine whether or not the intel they had received from the Tok'ra about Heru'ur's presence there was reliable. "Then you already know it's a reconnaissance mission."

"It's an overnight."

Jack was still facing the wall, but his tense posture told Hammond everything he needed to know. "It has the potential to be, yes. If the intelligence from the Tok'ra turns out to be legitimate, they're to remain undetected and observe Jaffa activity for up to 72 hours before returning home."

"Carter hasn't been cleared for this type of mission yet. Fraiser wanted her to do several short trips first. She's only been on one."

"Major Carter was cleared for full active duty upon her return from the previous mission. Both she and Dr. Fraiser felt she was ready. She didn't tell you this?"

"No."

I can't imagine why she chose not to… "Colonel…"

Jack abruptly turned on his heel. "You're sending a three person team into what could be enemy territory on shady information with no backup. For all we know, that place could be crawling with Jaffa."

"That's one of the reasons I chose SG-1 for the mission. The less people you send across enemy lines, the better chance they have at not being detected."

"And the harder it is to get home if things go wrong."

Hammond shook his head. "They're under strict orders not to engage the enemy unless it's absolutely necessary."

"Oh yeah – that line's always worked in the past."

"Jack…"

"General, it's a dangerous mission. Why can't we let the Tok'ra do their own dirty work on this one?"

"All of their operatives are currently out on assignment. Their fear is that with Apophis out of the picture, Heru'ur may attempt to absorb his territory and rise into power. They passed this intel onto us as a favor and as an offer of good faith."

"Good faith, my ass."

"Colonel!"

Jack lifted his chin and crossed his arms over his chest. The defiant position pulled at his injuries, but his current mood was preventing him from feeling much pain.

"I understand your concerns for your team, but until you are cleared by Dr. Fraiser for active duty, you're going to have to just trust my judgment on when and where they go," Hammond said, meeting the other man's cold glare with his own authoritative one. "I realize you want to go back to work, and believe me when I say I want you back out there too, but you're not ready yet, and I can't hold SG-1 back until you are. Now unless there's a specific reason you don't feel they're capable of completing this mission, they will be embarking tomorrow morning for P4R-332." He waited a moment to see if Jack would respond. "Well?"

"What?"

"Do you have a specific reason why SG-1 wouldn't be able to successfully complete this mission?"

"No, sir. I just don't like being left in the dark about the status of my team." Without waiting for dismissal, Jack stormed out of the office.

Hammond resisted the urge to jump up and chase after the man, knowing reprimand wasn't the best way to handle the situation. Ever since he'd put the mission together, he'd suspected something like this might happen, so the explosion he'd just witnessed hadn't entirely come as a surprise. Jack was angry, but he was also frustrated and scared. He wanted to be out there with his team, working, interacting, and keeping them from harm. If he couldn't be there to physically protect them, he wanted to do it the only other way he knew how: getting them pulled off the mission.

And the enemy contact risk isn't really that high… he thought, recalling the details from the briefing that morning. Even if Heru'ur does have an outpost on the planet, the Tok'ra seemed quite certain that he didn't know about the Stargate's presence. From the photos we got, it's practically become part of the forest it's sitting in. As long as SG-1 keep low and follow protocol, they should be able to slip in and out without ever being noticed…

Hammond knew Jack would have seen all this in the report, but he suspected most of his reasoning would have shut off the instant he saw the mission's timeframe. He'd handled his team being gone for 12 hours with little fuss, but 72 hours and a higher risk factor clearly had made him uncomfortable.

The general sighed as he searched his desk for the document he'd been reading before the president called. Things would be so much easier if Jack would just say what was bothering him rather than harboring it inside until it reached its boiling point. And as much as he wanted to try and convince him otherwise, Hammond knew the stubborn man would likely never change. All he could do now was keep an open door, a watchful eye, and hope Jack could sort through his misgivings on his own.

And if not, it's going to be a very long couple of days for everyone…

The strong aroma of freshly brewed French Roast had been reason enough for Janet to invest in the automatic coffee brewer for her office. On mornings like this when she was running behind, it was a godsend, promising an extra boost to help get her through an already harried day. Assuming the evening physician hadn't helped himself to a cup for the ride home, anyway.

As Janet exchanged her civilian jacket for her work coat, she noticed her hands were spotted with glitter. The shiny flecks had fallen from Cassie's latest school project and covered the kitchen table, the mudroom floor, and the backseat of her car. Even the dog had managed to get glittered, his coat and nose glinting whenever it caught the light. She frowned and tried to wipe off as much as she could, knowing it wouldn't be very professional to be seen with sparkly skin. Although her daughter's poster of the Solar System had looked great, she decided it was the last time she'd allow her to use glitter unsupervised.

She fixed herself a cup of coffee and settled down at her desk to review the notes left by the evening staff. It had apparently been a quiet night as there wasn't much to read. She was about halfway through the reports when the phone beside her began to ring.

"Hello? Becky, hi. Yes, I just got in – I had to take Cassie to school this morning. How was your weekend?" Lieutenant Becky Ports was one of the SGC's on call physiotherapists, splitting her time between the base and the Academy Hospital. She was young and still fairly new to the profession, but her determined, no nonsense attitude made her a perfect match for working with Jack O'Neill. "Really? That is strange. Did he say what happened? Okay. All right. I should probably take a look at him then. I'll see if I can catch him before he gets too far. Thanks for letting me know. Ah-huh, I will. Bye."

Janet hung up the phone and sighed. Apparently Jack had managed to do some damage to himself overnight and shown up to PT in significant pain. The lieutenant had excused him from his appointment when she discovered he could barely move and then called to express her concerns. Her paperwork and coffee forgotten, the doctor hurried out of her office to try and catch him before he left the infirmary level.

As luck would have it, he hadn't gotten far, and she managed to catch sight of him just as the elevator doors were sliding open. "Colonel! Wait! I need to speak to you."

"Can it wait?" Jack asked, not turning to look at her.

"No sir, it can't. I just got off the phone with Lieutenant Ports and…and she wasn't kidding. You are a mess." Although she thought she'd been prepared by what she'd been told, Janet was still taken aback by his haggard appearance. Sweating, pale, and slouching, Jack was clearly in pain. His right arm hung limply at his side, while his left wrapped protectively around his chest. She hadn't seen him looking this bad since the first time he tried to stand. "Colonel, what's wrong?"

"I'm fine," he replied unconvincingly. "It's just a bad day."

"Was it PT?"

"No. I might have done something to it last night."

"Come on," she said, taking him by his good arm. "I want to take a look at you." Just the fact that Jack allowed himself to be led into the infirmary without protest was enough to put the petite doctor on high alert. She guided him over to the bed furthest from the handful of other patients and motioned for him to sit down. She drew the privacy curtain around the bed and stood looking at him for a moment, wondering what could have possibly set him back this far. "So what happened last night?"

Jack tried to shrug, but wound up wincing instead. "I don't know. I woke up like this. I must have slept on it wrong or something."

Well versed in the art of deception, Janet recognized an excuse when she heard one. There was no way he could have slept for very long on his right side; the body's pain mechanisms just wouldn't allow it. She let it go for the time being, knowing the longer she kept him talking the better her chances were of getting the truth. "Can you take your shirt off for me, sir?"

Using only his left hand, Jack fumbled to undo the small buttons, his fingers lacking the practiced dexterity that his right hand would have. After several unsuccessful attempts, he finally allowed Janet to help.

"Lieutenant Ports said she excused you from PT today," the doctor said as she easily undid the buttons. "How come?"

"Would you believe for good behavior?"

Janet smiled. At least he was trying. "If it was anyone other than you, yes, I would." She cringed sympathetically as she helped him out of his shirt. "Ouch, sir," she uttered, looking at the swelling and redness that enveloped his shoulder and side. "You said you woke up with this?"

He nodded and looked away, unable to watch as she began to feel and manipulate the tender joint. The pain was bad but tolerable, at least until she reached the part of his chest that had been giving him the most trouble. As her exploring fingers pressed against his ribs, he cursed and nearly came off the bed.

"I'm sorry."

"S'okay, doc. I'm just a little sore there."

"Ya think?" she replied, using one of his own sayings. "You've got a good reason to be – there's a nasty bruise there. It doesn't feel like anything's broken, but I'd like to get an x-ray to be certain."

"It's not broken," he muttered with conviction.

"Are you sure you woke up like this, sir? You didn't lift something or fall or challenge someone to an arm wrestling match?" Even with her weak attempt at humor, he still wouldn't meet her gaze. He was definitely hiding something, but whether it was out of embarrassment or fear of reprimand she couldn't tell. Either way he wasn't himself. "I'm going to do a quick vitals check and then give you something for the pain," she said, not making it an option.

Jack sat silently as she took his blood pressure, pulse, and listened to his heart and lungs. His numbers were all elevated, but given his level of discomfort, she wasn't surprised. "Could I talk you into lying down?"

"I don't want to stay here."

"I'd like you to. Just for a little while. It's quiet and the only disturbance you'll get is from an occasional nurse poking her head in to make sure you haven't run off." When he still seemed reluctant, Janet deiced to make the decision easy for him. "I'll even help you off with your boots."

He pegged her with a defiant gaze, but her expectant look never changed. Knowing he'd likely lose any argument he tried to start, Jack relented and shifted his legs so she could access his feet.

Kneeling, she made quick work of removing his boots and setting them off to the side. "There. Make yourself comfortable, colonel. I'll be right back." Janet let herself out from behind the privacy curtain and headed for the drug cabinet. It troubled her to see Jack this way, especially since he was normally so full of energy and life. She knew part of it was the pain, but she also sensed there was something more. Something he wasn't readily willing to discuss.

It could be frustration… she thought, selecting two vials from the shelf and checking the dosage. He's essentially been on lockdown for almost four months. That's enough to try anyone's patience. I can't see him deliberately doing something that could set him back. Foolishly maybe, but not on purpose. It would be so much easier if his team were around to…his team…

She recalled the conversation she'd had with Sam two days before when she'd come down to the infirmary for her pre-mission screening. They'd chatted about a number of things, but one topic in particular came back to her now: the colonel. Sam had shown him the report for SG-1's upcoming mission to P4R-332. He'd been fine until he discovered it was an overnight and that they'd be in what was believed to be enemy territory without backup.

Janet drew the first medication into a syringe and then the second. She'd initially written off his agitation as being overly protective and assured her friend he would be fine. Although he's certainly not fine now… she thought with a frown. She didn't know for sure that Jack's new injury was related to his team's absence, but it was just too much of a coincidence for her to ignore.

The doctor sighed as she returned the drug vials to the cabinet and secured the lock. Again she wished he would just speak his mind. It was something he usually didn't have an issue with – what was so different now? Pausing to grab a couple of ice packs from the freezer, she headed back to her patient.

She found Jack beneath the covers with his left arm thrown over his face. It was his way of hiding; transporting himself mentally when he couldn't escape physically. For some reason, she was reminded of the day he'd first approached her about joining SG-1 on a mission off world. He'd been all jokes and laughs then, but not now. Now he just looked miserable.

Setting the items she'd been carrying on the small bedside table, the doctor pulled a pair of gloves from the box on the wall. "You okay, sir?"

He nodded, but made no attempt to remove the shroud.

Knowing he was sore, she carefully extended his right arm. "It's okay to worry about them, you know." She knew she was taking a risk by broaching such a sensitive topic so directly, but she was tired of beating around the proverbial bush. If he got mad and shut her out, so be it. At least he would know someone cared enough to try.

"Is it?"

"Of course. You're their leader. Even though you're here and they're out there, you still feel responsible for what happens to them," she replied, searching his arm for a suitable vein.

"How can I not?"

"If it's any consolation, General Hammond worries about every person on this base when they step through that gate. It's a burden of command. He wants the men and women of this base to be safe and come home unharmed, but it doesn't always happen that way. Even with the best training, weapons, and intelligence, things can still go wrong. You know that – you've seen it happen and dealt with the consequences first hand."

"Yeah, well, I prefer to be the one that causes the worrying, and not the worrier," he muttered.

Janet smiled. "Believe me, sir, you definitely cause your fair share of worry around here," she said, cleaning his skin with alcohol and popping the cap off the syringe. "So what's concerning you the most? Is it Sam being in charge?"

"Carter?" Jack sounded surprised. "No, not really. She knows what she's doing...for the most part. It's more the mission itself that's…" He tensed as the sharp point of the needle entered his skin. Within seconds, he began to feel tendrils of lethargy creeping into his consciousness. "What the hell did you give me?"

"It's a pain reliever with a healthy dose of muscle relaxant," she said, hearing the displeasure in his voice. "Some of your pain is coming from muscle spasms – the relaxants will help to minimize these."

Although he welcomed the fading pain, he despised the drowsiness that came with it. Sighing, Jack wearily scrubbed his hand across his face and stared up at the ceiling. As the drugs continued to work their way into his system, it became harder and harder to keep his mind clear and focused. Something cold touched his arm and he jumped, jarring his sore ribs.

"It's only ice, sir. Just relax."

He knew Janet was right beside him, but her voice seemed so far away. It was the medication, suspending him somewhere between awareness and oblivion. Carter… he thought groggily. Was she ready for this…? What if the snakes are there…will they be safe? What if they get caught…? I should be… "…out there with them…"

"What was that, sir?" the doctor asked, his words coming out in a tired mumble.

"SG-1…I should be out there with them."

"You will be soon."

"Should've been by now."

Janet finished arranging the ice bags and drew the blankets up over him. By the glassy look in his eyes, she could tell the medication was working and it wouldn't be long before he was asleep. "What's bothering you, colonel?" she asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed. She normally wasn't comfortable with the idea of questioning a drugged patient, but she needed to find out what was causing him so much distress.

"This is Carter's first command that could result in a firefight. Hammond wouldn't send backup."

"Why not?"

"Standard procedure. The less people you send into enemy territory, the better their chances are of not being detected."

"Well that sounds about right. You've been in that situation yourself in the past."

"And I also know how difficult it is to get out again when things go belly up."

"I thought you said Sam knew what she was doing?"

"She does – Daniel and Teal'c too. But I'm just…" Emotion played across his face, the drugs making it harder for him to conceal them.

"You can't protect them from everything, sir."

"I know, but by not being there…I can't even say I tried."

Janet reached out and took his hand. "You're always with them, Jack. Whether it's physically or through the lessons, techniques, and tactics you've imparted on them, you're always there. You learn from one other and carry the essence of each person with you wherever you go. And if you don't believe me, just look at Daniel. He was a failing scholar before he met you, and now he's on his way to becoming a skilled fighter with confidence and purpose."

"It's not the same as being there."

"It's close…"

"It's not close enough!" he exclaimed, clearly agitated.

"Colonel, you are getting better…"

"You call this better?" he demanded. "I should have been out there with them by now, not trapped in a goddamn hospital bed like some kind of invalid."

"In case you haven't noticed, sir," she began, her tone bordering on petulant. "You're not twenty-five years old anymore. You take longer to heal, and with injuries as severe as yours, you were lucky to have even survived the trip home, let alone recover as well as you are." She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. This probably wasn't the best time to be having such a conversation, but there were some things that needed to be said.

"By all accounts, Jack, you should have died. No, you did die – albeit for a few seconds…"

"It's not like I haven't been…"

"Don't even say it, colonel," she interrupted, not giving him the chance to undermine the seriousness of the conversation. "You know damn well this time would have been different. There would have been no alien intervention, no eleventh hour save – you would have been dead." She paused, giving her words a moment to sink in. "When you flat lined, all I could think about was how I was going to break the news to your team and then Cassie. Thankfully I never had to do either. You came back to us, only to nearly lose the fight again a few weeks later to pneumonia. We really thought we were going to lose you that time, but you surprised us all by coming through."

"Now I know you're frustrated and I know you want to be out there with your team, but these things take time. You've been through so much these past few months, and I wish I could say you were ready to go, but I can't. Not yet."

Jack sighed and pressed his hand wearily against his forehead. Frustration, confusion, and worry were all jostling for the forefront in his drug-clouded mind. He knew what she was saying was the truth – it was just so hard to swallow when it wasn't what he wanted to hear. "I'm sorry, Janet."

"You don't have anything to apologize for, sir."

"I've been a jerk – I've just had a lot on my mind ever since Carter and the others went back into the field. I think it all came to a head last night."

"What happened?"

"I had a dream."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," he replied without hesitation. "It was bad. Let's just leave it at that."

"Okay. You had a bad dream. What does that have to do with your shoulder and ribs being all swollen and sore?"

"I woke up fighting. I think I fell out of bed."

"So you hit the floor?"

He shook his head. "I landed on the night stand. I might have taken a swing at the lamp."

Now it was Janet's turn to sigh. He hadn't been lying when he said he'd woken up with his injuries. "I'm sorry you went through that, sir. It must have been frightening."

"It's not the first time I've had it happen. I'm just glad nobody got hurt."

"You did."

Jack gave a half shrug. "It's what I get for keeping stuff like this to myself," he muttered, his eyelids starting to grow heavy. "I've just got a lot of time on my hands right now and for me, that's not always a good thing."

The doctor couldn't have agreed more. A busy Jack was generally a happy Jack. Given too much idle time, his mind sometimes got the better of him. And with a past as turbulent as his, it was no wonder why the man chose to stay so active. Now with Cassie back in school and his team off world, he'd been pretty much left to his own devices. "Well, we'll see about finding you stuff to do, okay? Maybe the general and I can come up with something."

He nodded, his gaze distant. "It's just not knowing, you know? The day missions really didn't bother me, but this one…if the Tok'ra are right and there's really a snake there…"

"The general wouldn't have sent them if he didn't think they could handle it," she said. "Have confidence in them, sir, and in yourself. The worry may never go away completely, but it will get easier. And you know what else might help?"

"What?"

"Talking to someone you trust when something's bothering you. You're not alone in feeling this way and it's all right to ask for help getting through." He nodded and she squeezed his hand. "You're going to be all right, sir."

"You think so?"

"I know so." Offering him a warm smile, Janet stood up and adjusted his blankets. "Get some sleep, colonel. I think you'll feel a lot better after a nap."

"Thanks, doc – for everything."

"Anytime. I'll come back in a little while to check on you. Pleasant dreams, sir." She paused at the edge of the curtain for a moment, watching as Jack settled against the pillows and closed his eyes. He still wasn't himself, but he didn't seem to be as distressed as he'd been when she'd first seen him in the hall. Hoping their talk had at least eased the deepest of his worries, Janet quietly slipped away to allow him to rest.